


Modern Chivalry

by gowerstreet



Series: Recruitment of the Half-Seen [4]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dealing with Inappropriate Behaviour, Friendship, Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash, cabinlock AU, respect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2750066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gowerstreet/pseuds/gowerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes and Martin Crieff do not take kindly to those who are disrespectful towards Anthea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Chivalry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EntropicCascade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntropicCascade/gifts), [Spacedmonkey13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacedmonkey13/gifts).



> Dedicated to two remarkable souls who continually make my world a brighter place via Twitter and Telegram respectively.

Anthea wasn’t easily shaken. She managed to brush off most of the annoyances of everyday life, but some things were not easily forgotten. A touch, a glance or a smell had the power to take her back to less pleasant times and places.

It was a particularly gloomy Tuesday. She was calmly reeling through a list on her phone, swiping off items that she had already dealt with. Martin stood against the back wall, enjoying the pattern of light played against the sheen of her coiled hair. Then the lift stopped on the first floor and every space was filled. Her stance stiffened.

A stranger would have seen nothing and understood less. But Martin took keen notice of people, particularly those who mattered to him. In recent months, Anthea had risen to the top of that particular list. He was sure she was aware, but neither chose to disturb the balance they had created.

Being the tallest person in the lift gave him privileged access to the mirrored walls. Looking across, he spotted the cause of Anthea’s unease. Five feet nine of slime in overpriced tailoring and foul aftershave was taking advantage of the packed lift. His hand pressed ‘accidentally’ against her back, and his bulging crotch brushed incrementally against her hip. The others in the lift kept their hands and anatomy to themselves

Martin seethed. Not because Anthea was his, in any true sense of the word, but she deserved more respect than that. Anyone did. He memorised the face, and caught a glimpse of a name tag. Towleth. A memorable name for a foul creature, he thought. _I’d know you anywhere now_.

 

Towleth got out on the twenty third floor with the rest of the herd, leaving them alone again. The lift shuddered to a halt between floors. The jolt took Anthea unawares. She staggered back towards Martin’s chest. His hands caught her half down her arms and guided her upright.

She blushed. “Sorry. Turbulence and new shoes.” He released her as her balance returned.

“Not a problem. You OK?”

“Shaken, not stirred.” They exchanged smiles via the mirror.

“Good to hear, Ms Bond, but we’ve hardly the time for cocktails.”

The lift doors opened onto the top floor. Mycroft was waiting for them. He nodded at them both, then handed a file to Anthea. “This needs scanning and sending via the secure line to Beijing.”

“Certainly, Sir.” She headed to her office and closed the door.

Mycroft looked across at Martin. “ I am aware of the unpleasantness in the lift, Crieff. Your restraint was admirable. Ever the honourable soul.”

Martin nodded. “I dislike being in the presence of such disrespectful behaviour, Sir. Shall I deal with the situation?“

Mycroft’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam and his eyebrows rose. “I‘ll see to it. You have his name?”

“Towleth, Sir. “

Very good. Let me sort out this excuse of humanity.…”

By eleven o’clock, all was settled. Carl Towleth found himself on the pavement, clutching the contents of his desk in a cardboard box. The Director of Human Resources was in in similar situation, having ignored one too many complaints of sexual harassment. The two men eyed each other angrily, increasingly aware of the part that each had played in the other’s downfall.

Mycroft watched them trudge away in different directions, just as the rain started, via his CCTV feed. He would have preferred a more terminal solution, but they simply weren’t worth the logistics or the paperwork.

 

There was a knock on the half-open door. ”Ah, Anthea. I find myself unable to go to the private viewing at the Wallace Collection this evening. I apologise for the lack of notice, but would it be possible for you to attend in my place?”

A vague smile brushed across her features. She had a fondness for galleries. “Certainly. I have nothing planned.”

“Excellent. And take Crieff with you. There are a couple of new Russian cultural attaches who will be in attendance. Two pairs of eyes on them will be better than one. Report back to me in the morning.”

“Yes Sir. And thank you.”

Mycroft tilted his head quizzically . “For what, precisely?”

“For looking out for your team, I suppose.”


End file.
